


You Can Bet On It

by Rawrsuzie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Iwaizumi knows how to mess his boyfriend up, Iwaizumi loves his boyfriend a lot okay, M/M, Makeout Session, Mild Sexual Content, Oikawa tries to be smooth af, Started with sin ended with fluff, Tagging with mature just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 07:09:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8965294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rawrsuzie/pseuds/Rawrsuzie
Summary: Oikawa makes a bet with Iwaizumi. 
(Or Iwaizumi makes Oikawa eat his words...with his mouth.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a roll with all this IwaOi smut. ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> I tried once again for sin again and I couldn't help but end with fluff. (tbh I just wanted some shameless makeout session between the two.) ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> These boys will be the end of me. :')

“So you understand the rules then?”

Hajime crosses his arms over his chest and has the audacity to act indifferent.

“If I do this, will you finally shut up about it?”

Tooru is tempted to retaliate but decides against that or else their little game will end before it’s even started if they start to argue.

So he chooses to rile him up instead.

“Isn’t that your job?” He challenges cheekily, “or is that impossible for someone without any sex appeal?”

And if there is one thing that can get his boyfriend going, it’s the prospect of a challenge that he can’t beat.

It’s almost scary how instantaneously Hajime’s mood changes, going from mildly annoyed to downright predatory; a wolf staring down his prey, creeping closer and closer to go in for the kill.

Tooru knows he’s awakened a beast and is only partly terrified.

Hajime steps slowly forward and with every step towards him, Tooru unconsciously takes one back. This obviously triggers something in his boyfriend because Hajime grins and Tooru’s heart clenches. He can’t even fathom how he can be looking at someone who can look so intimidating and yet so infuriatingly sexy.

His back suddenly hits the wall and Tooru knows he’s trapped. It’s a weird sensation to feel so terrified and yet be so fucking into it. Hajime is only slightly shorter than him, but his height advantage does him no favors, his boyfriend is ridiculously strong and all he has to do is pin down both of Tooru’s wrists and he is completely at the mercy of his former vice-captains advances.

“No sex appeal, huh?”

Hajime seals their mouths together without any hesitation.

Tooru makes a surprised sound, muffled by the soft slide of lips against his own. Hajime’s grip on his wrists tightens, effortlessly forcing his wrists above his head with only one of his hands.

And it definitely _does not_ make Tooru whimper.

Hajime doesn’t stop either. He relentlessly presses into Tooru’s space, pushing into his mouth, rubbing circles into his hip with his free hand.

It shouldn’t feel this good to simply be kissing, but the soft roll of Hajime’s tongue against his lips, the roof of his mouth, his tongue, it gives him a buzzed feeling, like the cheap sake his sister bought for them the night of his graduation, but so much better. He can hardly stand—hardly breathe for that matter. Hajime is easily robbing him of all of his sense with a simple flick of his tongue and the press of his soft, soft lips against his own.

He suddenly takes Tooru’s bottom lip in between his teeth, gently kneading and rolling it between, making a soft little sucking sound while he eagerly works the others mouth into a lovely plumpness that Hajime pulls back to admire for a moment before pressing eagerly back into Tooru’s sweet little mouth again. Hajime clamps a hand on both thighs, pushing Tooru’s back harder against the wall and forcing him to wrap both legs around his waist.

Tooru loses all sense of reason. Eagerly he circles his arms around his neck, clamping both legs around his lover’s sturdy waist, making a tiny little grunt when the other shoves him against the wall again only to have it turn into a full-blown moan when Hajime’s hands come to rest right over his ass, giving it a tight squeeze.

And when they pull apart briefly—when the possibility of suffocation is becoming a reality, when Tooru starts to feel that this would be the sweetest death he could possibly imagine, Hajime pulls away, both of them panting like they’ve just finished a match, and can’t help but stare at his former captain because the look on Tooru’s face is downright sinful.

“So pretty, Tooru.”

He licks his lips, removing one hand from the others bottom to bring it over the others lip, gingerly caressing the tender flesh with a callous thumb, relishing in the completely debauched expression his best friend is giving him.

He shouldn’t be so please with the fact that he’s the only one able to do this, the only one that can turn _the_ Oikawa Tooru into an absolute mess of a man, make him so messy—so _needy—_

Hajime kisses him again, licks into his mouth and sucks on his tongue voraciously, pulling back abruptly just because he knows that he can draw out a _delicious_ little whine from him and he’s rewarded with both the sound _and_ getting to watch as the trail of saliva they share snaps in between them, smacking back against Tooru’s bright red lips. He cups a cheek in his palm, giving him a few small pecks, once more admiring his work in completely ruining his boyfriend.

He practically grins when he realizes that Tooru’s pouting at him.

“What’s the matter?” His tone is purposefully condescending, voice deep, husky sounding and obviously affecting Tooru with the way he can feel the other tremble against him.

Tooru keeps pouting and if his pupils weren’t blown so wide and his face wasn’t flushed such a deep cherry color, Hajime might actually consider it a glare.

He smirks before adding: “Finally ready to admit that you’re wrong?”

If possible, Tooru’s swollen lip pokes out even further, looking even less intimidating and even more endearing.

So he purposefully brings his free hand back down, sliding it back under the others firm backside, kneading the firm mounds between both hands, kissing along the length of his jaw and smiling against his neck when he hears his boyfriend try to suppress a moan.

“Iwa-chan…!”

Hajime nuzzles the spot right under his ear, pressing a soft kiss there. “Mm?”

“T-That’s cheating…!”

Technically yes, but could you really blame him?

He won’t admit it though; instead he presses two more kisses underneath Tooru’s ear, moving to his neck when he hears him trying (unsuccessfully) to suppress a high-pitched whimper.

“Cheater…” Tooru swallows another embarrassing sound, pulling not-so-gently on the hair his fingers were currently buried within.

Hajime grunts, trying to fake annoyance so his boyfriend doesn’t realize how much he enjoys having his hair pulled. (Though they both know that he already does.)

“Cheater!” He exclaims again once he has his former vice-captain’s full attention.

“I’m kissing you…” He leans closer, brushing his lips against the others once more, lightly nipping on his bottom lip before pulling away again, “…just like we agreed.”

Tooru blinks a few times, taking a second too long to respond before he cries, “You’re touching…!”

“I’m _holding.”_ He corrects.

“That’s a pretty _strange_ way of holding someone, wouldn’t you say?”

“You don’t seem to mind.”

And to prove his point, he hikes him up a little higher, pulling a hand back to give his butt a firm smack that makes Tooru yelp.

” _Hajime!”_

Hajime presses back into Tooru once more already bored with their conversation. He’s much more interested in seeing how much more he can ruin his former captain before he finally gives in. He sucks on his tongue once more, partly because he enjoys the feeling of it but mostly because of how vocal it makes his boyfriend.

Tooru’s face burns at the sounds that leak from his own throat, but he can’t help the heated little moans because _damn_ Hajime is a really fucking good kisser—his mouth should be illegal.

Hajime moves to nuzzle into the spot between his neck and shoulder, giving light kisses across his shoulder and collar bone that peeks out from his ill-fitting shirt. It’s wonderfully enticing seeing his boyfriend in one of his long sleeves. Tooru’s always been adamant about wearing his shirts even going as far as to take them straight off of his back sometimes because, _“they smell good just like Iwa-chan…”_

What kind of boyfriend was he to deny his lover that? Not to mention the fact that Hajime _thoroughly_ enjoyed seeing him in ‘the boyfriend shirt’. Though, he’d never mention that to Tooru or else he’d probably never see any of his clothes again (and keep a hard-on for the rest of his life for that matter.)

He continuously presses kiss after kiss into milky white skin, hiking the black shirt up ever so slightly so that he could press his thumbs back into the dips in Tooru’s hips. He rubs gentle circles into the flesh, grasping onto to them occasionally to give them a good squeeze. When his lover’s moans quiet back down to heavy breathing, Hajime begins to suck little bites into his pale skin, decorating it in an array of little red dots.

“Mm…!”

Tooru’s reaction is immediate, his neck being one of the many sensitive spots across his body. He makes sweet little keening sounds as Hajime continues with his ministrations, suddenly determine to cover unblemished skin in marks that won’t disappear for days.

Always with Tooru does Hajime have this instinctive need to possess him.

And this time is no different, even with the lacking amount of fans or anyone in general that try to get _his_ Tooru’s attention. His boyfriend was naturally a beacon to people, which was fine as long as they remembered to keep their hands _off_ of what was strictly his.

The thought alone of other people touching his lover sends him into a slight frenzy and may or may not be the reason he sucks a huge hickey just to the right of his Adam’s apple. When he pulls back to assess his work, he decides to suck two more dark marks just to even out the assortment, relishing in the lewd noises that accompany his attentions.

When he leans back once more, he shudders at the inconceivably wrecked expression Tooru is wearing. It lacks all of his usually haughtiness and overconfidence—his skin taking on a beautiful rosy color that flushes prettily across his cheeks and down his neck, he’s eyes shining with tears that threaten to bubble over at any second, his mouth a dark red almost a bruised color courtesy of Hajime’s earlier ministrations and from Tooru biting his lip over and over to keep himself from crying out into the quiet of their apartment. (Their neighbors probably wouldn’t appreciate being woken _again_ just because Tooru didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.)

Many times had the two of them played games like this and it never failed to rile the both of them up. Tooru was just too damn easy to tease and Hajime lacked a lot of control with anything that involved his boyfriend, especially when it was so easy to prove how Tooru, with all his bravado, simply melted under him with a few kisses and a couple of squeezes to the right places.

Oikawa Tooru talked a big game, but when it came to moments like these, the ball was in Hajime’s court.

He doesn’t care what anyone believes or how Tooru always tries to deny it—it was a fact that Tooru was an absolute virgin when it came to anything sexual (or even emotional for that matter).

When they first started dating, being even within arm’s reach of his boyfriend turned him into a blushing mess. Kissing became a game of how red was his cute captain going to turn this time and while Tooru had definitely become vastly more comfortable in doing more intimate things together, Hajime always found new and better ways to wipe that damn smirk off the former setter’s face.

He relishes in the control he has over the captivating man resting snug in his arms but isn’t blind to the fact that said person probably has just as much if not more over him as well.

Tooru’s infuriatingly pretty and very…persuasive when he needed to be. Hajime won’t lie, he does struggle against telling his boyfriend no sometimes—not just because he oozed sex appeal probably 87% of the time (Tooru is only human after all), but because he was endearing in his own special way.

Hajime is definitely weak to his little pouts and big doe-eyes. He thinks Tooru huffing at him and crossing his arms across his chest when he’s miffed at him is probably the second cutest things he’s ever had the pleasure of witnessing, the first being watching Tooru talk animatedly about something he loves.

Hajime is so smitten with this nerd, it’s almost impossible to imagine his life without him.

Which why he’ll indulge in all of Tooru’s little games, let him think that he has the upper hand when in reality Hajime needs no motive to take apart his lover piece by piece.

Because this isn’t just about winning a silly little bet against Tooru, it’s also making absolute sure that he knows without any doubt that Hajime adores every part of him and he isn’t afraid to shower him in kisses if that’s what it takes to get him to believe it.

_”I bet you can’t get me to start begging by just kissing me!”_

Tooru doesn’t need to beg for anything, Hajime will willingly give him anything he desires.

He doesn’t need to keep making up these games to keep their intimate life interesting—Hajime will never tire of carding through soft, caramel tresses. He will never be bored with cupping a pretty face in his palms while pressing kisses to either cheek, both eyelids, a forehead, a cute little bunny-nose, and deliciously plump lips. He loves smoothing his hands down a tight muscular frame, pressing over sensitive nipples as he drags his hands down lower, tickling a lean stomach, caressing over voluptuous thighs (and perhaps sucking in a mark or two), grasping onto a firm, padded backside while repeating a mantra in his head of _mine, mine, all mine_ as he loses himself in the sensation of loving Oikawa Tooru.

It’s his absolute favorite way of making him fall apart.

But his majesty has demanded kisses now and Hajime has no choice but to spoil him.

He tilts Tooru’s chin down so that their mouths are level before placing their lips gently back together with every intention of demonstrating how much Hajime loves being together like this. Chill bumps spread across the surface of his skin when Tooru’s fists clench into the fabric of his t-shirt and he hears the other choke on a sob. Their lips fit together so seamlessly, it makes him wonder if they were meant for each other, but he saves the delirious romantics for later, slotting their mouths together instead where it feels like they fit perfectly together, giving endless wet kisses to the other addictive mouth and refraining from roughly biting or sucking like early but languidly running his tongue into every crevice he can reach.

He can tell Tooru is reaching his breaking point, the watery keens and high-pitched whines being a dead giveaway, and as badly as Hajime wants to end this so that he can move onto pampering his boyfriend in more satisfying ways, he refuses to be the one to let the ball drop first. This is Tooru’s game, a game in which follows a very specific set of rules that he may not completely understand, but is smart enough to know that stopping will have Tooru believing in something that is absolutely not true.

That Hajime isn’t absolutely crazy about him.

Which is a damn fucking lie.

And if proving that takes him smashing their mouths together until neither can feel their lips, if it takes laying him carefully on their shared futon, pressing thousands of kisses into every patch of skin he can reach without removing any clothes, if he needs him to suck even more possessive dark marks into pale, milky skin, worshiping with those same lips every inch of a person of whom he’s never had a chance in hell of not being infatuated with—

He’ll do it. Without any hesitation, he’ll do it.

Because, and this is one thing he knows with every fiber of certainty that he has:

Iwaizumi Hajime loves Oikawa Tooru.

No matter the court, no matter the team, no matter the setup, their love was as certain as a setter tossing to their ace.

And it only grew more with every game.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone notice I threw some volleyball symbolism in there? *finger guns*


End file.
